Wherever the Road Takes You
by Toby Kincaid
Summary: What happens when a wizard is forced to leave wizarding society? What happens when that person wants revenge? A story about how the past can come back to haunt you and what happens when people are caught in the crossfire.
1. Part 1

Wherever the Road Takes You

By Toby Kincaid

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything connected to the Harry Potter series, specifically, for this chapter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Hogwarts or Albus Dumbledore.  The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishers, Scholastic Publishing and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Summary:  What happens when a wizard is forced to leave wizarding society?  What happens when that person wants revenge?  A story about how the past can come back to haunt you and what happens when people are caught in the crossfire.  

Authors Notes:  This story is set immediately after The Prisoner of Azkaban.  There's no romantic relationship between Lupin and Snape in this story.  Sorry if that's what you were expecting.   

Part 1

London could use another massive fire, a complete and utter conflagration.  Something along the lines of what happened to Dresden would be wonderful.  

            That was Severus Snape's only thought, and a repetitive one at that, as he skulked the dirty, dank streets of London.  He hated the festering, grimy, depilated hellhole on the best of days, which was usually safe within the clean confines of his manor or the dark corners of his Hogwarts dungeons, and utterly despised it on the worst.  Rubbing the dusty grit from his eyes, the knuckles of his fingers throbbing from the unseasonably cold weather, Severus silently headed towards his summoned rendezvous.  Barely two days had passed since the end of term, and he'd been looking forward to the solitude and quiet of his manor, away from the bumbling idiots and petty braggarts that tormented him at Hogwarts, and that was just the faculty.  

            Sighing as he passed under a flickering streetlamp, Severus found himself musing, for what was probably the millionth time this school year, exactly which student he hated more, since there were oh so many to choose from.  One of the Weasleys perhaps, heavens knew there was an abundance of them, the Granger brat, Longbottom, Potter's arrogant fool, or Lucious' little bastard.  All of them were either fingernails along a chalkboard annoying, hopelessly useless, or outright dangerous.  Shaking his head absently, and feeling the edges of his hair tickle the back of his neck, he pushed the thought out of his mind as he neared the alley he was to enter.  

            A darkened alley, what a cliché, he thought.  The message requesting his presence, however, had not been.  A message written in blood using dried, paper-thin human skin as parchment had shown up for him during the teachers breakfast yesterday morning, the final meeting of all of Hogwarts professors until a couple of days before the start of the next term, where they would sort out whatever issues that faced them for the new year.  Dumbledore had been unsettled by the letter, not liking either its contents or the materials used to write it.  However, neither of them felt that ignoring the letter was a good idea either.  Better to go and find out what it meant than disregarding it, and having it lead to an even bigger problem.  A message written on human skin in blood could only lead to much nastier problems both had agreed.

            Turning the corner into the shadowed alley, he slowed down and pulled out his wand.  He was surprised at how far the alley went, as well as how wide it was.  Limp, cardboard boxes and trash littered the lane, while either broken or boarded up windows stared down solemnly at him.  1950s architecture, such as it was, stood on both sides of him as he stalked down the street.  

            He hadn't gone far into the alley when he saw something moving at the end of street.  Stepping silently to the side of a building, he watched the hunched shadow move slowly and methodically away him, quiet words whispering their way towards him.

            "…no cold spot, but a puddle of water.  Strange noises, but no sign of a ghost.  The clues don't make-"

            The person stopped, and turned their head slightly in his direction.  Severus came to an immediate stop.  Standing there, he watched the person turn their head completely and stare in his direction, their face blackened by shadows, a mass of ebony standing near a far wall.  

            For a long second, the shadow stood there, something long and thin in their hand, staring at him, before a quiet, exhaustion ravished voice asked, "What are you doing here, Severus."

            It took Severus a moment to recognize the voice as his former classmate, and until recently, fellow professor, Remus Lupin.  It had been at least three weeks since he's last since the werewolf, since letting the creature's little secret out to his Slytherins, who, of course, had spread it around the school.  

            "I should be asking you the same thing, Lupin.  What are you doing sneaking around a darkened London alleyway?"

            "What are you?"  Lupin countered, leaving the shadows, entering a faint beam of light, the long shape turning out to be the creature's wand.  The werewolf looked almost as rundown and exhausted as he had when he arrived on the first day of term.  "I don't recall you ever being fond of the city, and at the moment, can't think of a reason you'd be here willingly, especially in a place such as this."

            "Intelligence leaving you so soon, Lupin?"  Severus' anger and resentment at the werewolf flared into petty taunts and insults.  All the jealousies and distrust he'd harbored for years, and had nursed bitterly during Lupin's brief tenure at Hogwarts, bubbled to the surface.  "That part of you you're always trying to hide starting to take over?"

            There was no response and Severus felt his annoyance burn into fury.  

            "What are you doing here, Severus?"  Lupin repeated patiently.  Of all the Marauders, Lupin had always been the calmest and the least likely to respond to an insult.  Severus had always assumed it was because the creature was determined not to draw attention to himself.  Severus had to admit, grudgingly, that Lupin had remarkable self-control, and he despised the werewolf for it.

            "What are you?" he sneered.  Lupin had no reason to know his business, and the sooner he could get the werewolf out of the way, the better.  If the message was from who he thought it was, the last person he needed there was Lupin.

            Lupin said nothing for a moment, before sighing.  "A family in the building over there," he pointed to one of the buildings he'd passed on his way down the alley, "asked me to come and see if I couldn't get rid of what they thought was a ghost."

            "Ah.  So this is what you were doing before Dumbledore hired you last year."  Motioning at the worn and darned clothing the werewolf wore, he remarked, "Obviously you weren't doing that good a job of it."

            As with his previous barb about his lycanthropy, Lupin said nothing.  Anger flaring at the lack of response, Severus snarled, "Well, hurry up, Lupin.  Either find the ghost and dispatch it, or admit how inept you are and leave." 

            Glancing behind him, a frown creasing his tired features, Lupin said, "It's not as simple as that.  There's something not right here, something in the alley.  I don't know what the family has seen, but there's nothing here to indicate a ghost, however, there is something very wrong about this place."

            "Seeing things in the shadows, Lupin?" he sneered.  "Trying to give Moody a run for being most paranoid?"

            Closing his eyes for a moment, Lupin took a deep breath and sighed before turning his back on Severus and heading towards the area he'd been searching.  

            Severus glanced back over the alley behind them, seeing nothing, including the person he'd been called to meet.  Pulling his silver pocket watch from within his robes, he felt a wave of uneasiness creep up his spine as he noted the time, and the fact that it was rapidly approaching the hour he was supposed to meet the sender of yesterday's message. 

            Snapping the watch shut with a click, he hissed, "Hurry up, Lupin."

            Without turning around, crouching near a highlighted area near the far wall, Lupin mumbled, "You can't rush this, Severus, nor am I going to.  There's something other than a ghost here, and I'm not about to charge into an unknown situation just because you're in a hurry."

            "Lupin," he snarled, heading towards the werewolf, not paying any attention to the spell the creature had murmured over the area he was studying, nor really noticing the strange array of lights that suddenly appeared in, as well as leading away from, the lighted section of alleyway.

            "What the…" Lupin mumbled, turning his head, following the lead of the lights, his eyes going wide at something in front of him as he jumped up from his crouch.  "Severus, stop!"

            Surprised at the force of the werewolf's voice, Severus did find himself coming to a stop, and stared at Lupin.  "What?"

            Motioning at the area in front him, where Severus now noticed bars of light, Lupin said, "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"       

            Severus frowned, and looked at what was causing the werewolf such concern.  After looking at it for a moment, he shook his head.  "No.  It's probably some kind muggle set up, just someone trying to scare the locals obviously.  Go tell the family who hired you that someone was playing a trick."  

            Shaking his head, Lupin studied the area some more, peering closer at the wall in front of, and directly next to, him.  

            Feeling his internal clock warning him that the time of his meeting was almost upon him, Snape moved toward the werewolf and snapped, "Lupin-"

            Lupin turned his head and opened his mouth to say something when a roar of thunder exploded in Severus' ears while a riot of bright, white light blinded him, a rush of air knocking him down.  Everything became hazy for a moment, and when he could finally see again, there was still a horrid ringing in his ears, Severus found Lupin nowhere to be found.  All there was to see was small piles of rubble and gaping holes in the walls around of him.  However, there didn't seem to be any sign of Lupin, dead, unconscious, or otherwise.  

            "Oi, what are you doing down there?" a voice shouted through the din in his head.

            Turning his head, and seeing a couple of large, burly men heading towards him, with what looked like weapons of some sort on their hands, Severus disapparated, not caring that he wasn't supposed to do magic in front of muggles.  He'd deal with had happened after everything quieted down, including whatever had happened to Lupin.  Getting himself caught by some stupid muggles wouldn't do himself, or Lupin, any good.  Not that he really cared what happened to Lupin, but knew Dumbledore would be less than pleased if anything happened to his pet werewolf.

            Standing at the far end of the alley, near where the one called Lupin had been, stood a tall, densely built man.  His greying black hair was stylishly cut, matching nicely with the expensive overcoat hiding his £200 suit.  His light blue eyes studied the scene before him, as well as the spot where until a moment ago, Severus Snape had been sitting.  There was no joy in the man's face; the night's events had not gone as planned.  Nodding up at one darkened windows above him, the scene in front of him shimmered for a second, before being instantly replaced with a still dirty and littered alley, but also an unconscious figure lying face down in a heap in front of his meticulously shined, hand-made Italian shoes.  Carefully, the man pushed the figure over a bit so he could see the person's face.  It wasn't the person he'd expected, but he'd do just as nicely, for now.

            Motioning at the two men who'd come down the other end of the alley, the man stepped back into the shadows and left. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. Part 2

Wherever the Road Takes You  
  
By Toby Kincaid  
  
Disclaimer:  I don't own anything connected to the Harry Potter series, specifically, for this chapter, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Hogwarts or Albus Dumbledore.  The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishers, Scholastic Publishing and Warner Brothers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Authors Notes:  This story is set immediately after the 3rd Harry Potter book, The Prisoner of Azkaban.  Also, sorry it took so long to get this part out.  I am working on the story, but real life demands much of my time, add to the fact that I went on a two week trip a week ago, and things couldn't be helped.  Thank you, Ginny Potter! The review was welcome.  
  
A little explanation, gamete cells, for those who don't know, are sex cells, ie sperm or egg cells.  
  
Part 2  
  
Remus Lupin wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was able to hold a sustained, conscious thought.  Images, feelings and impressions had been flittering through his head for a while, but nothing remotely resembling awareness of self or the world around him.  Flashes of faces hovering over him, the gentle, and in some cases painful and invading, touching of hands, or the lurching sensation of being moved swirled around him.  What recollections he did have were hazy and distorted, the light too bright and the faces blurred.  Whatever the hands had been doing, for the brief impressions he had of being touched, had not been pleasant as a whole, the hands at one point had been touching him in places he didn't want to think about.   
  
          Now, at least he was becoming aware of things around him, specifically what he physically felt.  His sense of placement was returning, and he knew he was lying down on something not altogether soft with a pancake flat pillow beneath his head.  He also knew he was strapped down, though that little tidbit of knowledge did nothing to ease him of the apprehension he was feeling.  
  
          Weakly, he found had almost no strength, Remus tugged at the restraints around his wrists, there seemed to be a strap of some kind across his legs.  He could hear the tinny sound of metal clinking against metal as he moved his hands.  He didn't think the metal was silver, he didn't feel any burns on his wrists.  That was the usual reaction a werewolf would have to touching silver.  Nevertheless, whatever the metal was, it was strong enough to keep him where they wanted him.  Then again, with whatever they'd given him, cloth restraints would have had the same effect.   
  
          It took a while for Remus to pry open his eyes.  He wasn't sure if it was the gunk caked on his eyelids or just the overall weakness in his muscles, but it seemed to take forever for his eyes to open, and what he saw when he could finally see things clearly wasn't impressive.  Directly above his head was nothing more than panels of white with thin bands of silver looking metal in between them with an occasional illuminated section.  Swallowing against the desert in his throat, Remus turned his head and found a wall of white next to him.   
  
          This is getting silly, he thought woozily, closing his eyes for a moment.  He was just about to open his eyes when he heard the snick of a lock opening and doorknob being turned.  Blinking open his heavy lids, Remus turned his head towards the door and found himself staring up at a thin man with balding, wispy blond hair and a long, giraffe-like neck.   
  
          "Ah, you're awake then.  We were wondering when you'd come around."   
  
          Squinting up at the man, Remus opened his mouth to say something, noticing very quickly that his mouth tasted appalling, like Sirius' old trainers, but the only thing that came out was a hoarse squeak.   
  
          The man jumped, a look of surprise crossing his bland face before he darted somewhere behind Remus's head with a quick, "Sorry about that," before returning within his vision, holding a cup in his hand.   
  
          Slipping a hand beneath Remus's head and tilting it forward, the man held the cup against his lips, allowing the liquid within to brush against his dry, chapped skin.  Flicking his tongue out experimentally, all Remus tasted was water and immediately let the icy fluid fill his gummy mouth.   
  
          Almost gagging on the rush of liquid, Remus choked weakly, and the man pulled the cup away from his lips and said, "Oops, didn't mean to drown you."   
  
          Remus nodded absently, swallowing what was in his mouth gratefully, and took hesitant sips from the cup once the man returned it to its position against his mouth.  As soon as he'd had his fill, Remus jerked his head away, and the man gently lowered his head back down onto the almost painfully hard pillow.    
  
          Licking his lips, and with a quick clearing of his throat, Remus asked, "Where am I?  Who are you?"  He almost asked about Snape, but caught himself in time before blurting out the question.  
  
          The man had a rather excited look on his face, and Remus felt his skin crawl.  "Dunstow Technologies.  I'm Dr. John Beeding, head researcher.  I must say, you are the most fascinating, um, person I've ever examined. I mean, Mr. Moreland said you were capable of talking, and," the man gasped giddily.  He almost expected the man to clap his hands together in childish delight, "you have vocal cords and all, and your brain did appear to have areas devoted to speech, but I didn't believe, never really thought-"  
  
          "Thought what?" Remus interrupted, not liking the conversation at all.  "Will you take these things off my wrists and let me up?  My back is sore."  And his back was sore, as was his hip.  
  
          "Oh, that's just the spinal tap, nothing to worry about.  But, it's strange that you should be feeling pain, we did that procedure yesterday, and according to what Mr. Moreland said, you heal very fast.  I didn't expect you to be still being feeling anything from it."  
  
          Remus felt his head spinning.  Spinal what?  The man had to be a muggle, and a crazy one at that.  Swallowing back the panic in his throat, Remus said, "Listen, I don't know what you're talking about.  All I know is that I didn't ask to be brought here and don't want to be here.  Now will you please let me go?"  
  
          The giddy grin that had creased the muggles face faded as the tone of, and desperation in, Remus' voice sank in, only to suddenly return as Beeding purred, "Will you transform into a werewolf if I don't?"  
  
          Remus felt his heart stutter.  Swallowing convulsively, he gasped, "What?"  
  
          "Will you transform?  Mr. Moreland told us you were a werewolf, and other than some unusual blood characteristics, and some possibly affected senses, you don't appear any different than anyone else off the street."  
  
          All Remus could do was frown.  At least half of the conversation had simply gone over his head.  And who was Moreland?  He didn't know any Moreland.  But that wasn't what troubled him the most.  The fact that this muggle knew what he was did.   
  
          Oh, Great Merlin, what were they going to do to him?  What, exactly, had they already done to him?  He knew the horror stories about what happened to werewolves who'd been taken and experimented on, even though he couldn't remember the last time such a thing had occurred.  
  
          "…will you transform?"  The muggle repeated.  "Because, Mr. Moreland said you could only change on a full moon."  
  
          Remus didn't say anything, because he didn't know what to say.  Of all the times his being a werewolf had been discovered, he'd never encountered one as bizarre, or as mind numbing, as this one.  He knew that no matter what he told the muggle, he was well and truly screwed.  In the end, he simply chose to remain silent.  
  
          After a while, the muggle seemed to realize that Remus wasn't going to answer his question and tried to shrug nonchalantly, but only ended up looking childish.  "Well, it doesn't matter whether you tell me or not, since we're going to see you transform soon anyway.  There's a full moon tonight."  
  
          Remus' head spun.  No.  The full moon was weeks away.  It couldn't be tonight.  That would mean….  
  
          "How long have I been here?" he whispered.  
  
          "You've been here eighteen days, tonight."  
  
          Remus felt sick, his stomach rolling, as his mind tried, and failed, to process that fact.  
  
          He jumped slightly when the muggle gently picked up his hand and began examining it.  The doctor brushed his fingers against what should have been the worn and callused skin of Remus's hand, his voice a throaty purr as he said, "You really a most fascinating creature."  
  
          A shiver raced up Remus's spine and he jerked his hand out of the muggle's grasp, curling his fingers into his palm.  He could feel himself trembling.  It had been a long time since Remus had felt truly afraid, but he was definitely feeling that way now.   
  
          The only sound heard for a time was their breathing, until Beeding turned from the bed Remus was chained to and left the room.    
  
   
  
From the observation windows near the ceiling, Dr. John Beeding stood and looked down at his newest specimen.  The room was different from the one he'd met the werewolf in a couple of hours ago.  This room was to be his permanent home while he was being studied, hence the observation windows, as well as cameras and listening devices planted inside.  At the moment, there was no bed, since Mr. Moreland had informed them that the transformed werewolf would become extremely violent when it realized it was confined during the full moon and would proceed to attack not only the walls and anything inside the room, but also himself.  Not that a bed needed, since he wouldn't be spending the entire night in the room anyway.   
  
          Currently, the werewolf was sitting in a corner of the room, his knees pulled up against his chest, head down and arms wrapped around his legs.  They'd removed the subject's clothes before putting him in the new room, to make sure nothing obstructed his view of the change from human to wolf.   
  
          He wasn't lying to the werewolf when he said he was a most fascinating creature.  All the tests results on him so far were extraordinary.  The werewolf really was no different, appearance-wise, than anyone else, but there were some obvious differences in his DNA.  He had forty-six chromosomes like any other human, but there were markers in his genetic code that appeared similar, if not exactly the same, as those of the canid family.  If was almost as if someone had grafted some wolf DNA to that of a human.  One of the more surprising things that was discovered was that, according to tests done on the werewolf's sperm, the creature would have normal human children.  There hadn't been a hint of those strange, canid-like markers in his gamete cells, which meant that lycanthropy wasn't an inheritable condition.  He'd been as shocked as anyone on the team, including Mr. Moreland, who was not only the owner of the company funding their research, but also their resident expert on the topic.  
  
          "Thirty seconds to moonrise."  
  
          Beeding glanced back at the equipment in the room, taking note of the blinking lights on the camera monitors, and returned his attention back to the figure sitting in the corner of the room below him.  
  
          He'd barely taken note of Mr. Moreland coming up beside him when the subject's body down below convulsed, once.  From his position, he could see the werewolf's hands tighten into fists as another convulsion shook his thin frame.  Suddenly, a low, painful moan echoed through the speakers hooked into the microphones in the room below.   
  
          Beeding's eyes were glued to the trembling figure below him, as the werewolf slowly pulled himself out of his corner on his hands and knees.  Even from where he was standing, Beeding could see rippling under the skin of the subject's back.  Kneeling in supplication, the werewolf's slender body shuddered as a deep, soul-wrenching wail erupted from the speakers, what sounded like bones breaking reverberating beneath.  Suddenly, almost too quickly for him to catch, the werewolf's body began to, shift, the hands and fingernails lengthened, hair sprouted up everywhere, while his back legs melded and twisted themselves to form hind limbs.  Before he knew it, in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, where once a pale, thin man had crouched now stood a large, snarling grey wolf.   
  
          "Amazing," Beeding breathed.  He was in awe, he had never seen anything so magnificent.   
  
          Then the werewolf began skulking around the room, going around in a circle a couple of times, growling viciously as he came to realized that not only was he the only thing in the room, but that there was no obvious means of escape.   
  
          Beeding glanced over at an assistant, and nodded.   
  
          Adjusting the mike near his mouth, he said, "Okay, Ian, fire when ready."       
  
          After a moment, there was a hollow, scraping sound of air and something solid being forced through a tube, and painful yelp from the wolf below.   Beeding watched the wolf shuffle a little, a tranquilizer dart sticking out of his left hindquarter, before it started to stagger, and then collapse in a boneless heap, its tongue hung out limply between its teeth.   
  
          Releasing the breath he'd been holding, Beeding smiled and announced to those around him, "Well, let's get to work.  We've only got until moonset."  
  
          There was a shuffling of chairs and the sound of people leaving the room.  Beeding, however, stayed behind for a moment.  
  
          Wetting his lips, he asked, his employer, "Are you still going to hire that specialist?  The one with both a psychological, as well as animal behavioral background?"  
  
          Moreland nodded his salt and peppered head, eyes still focused on the scene below him, where other people involved in the project where loading the unconscious werewolf to a trolley to be moved to the medical section of the building.  Beeding noticed that the werewolf's mouth had been tightly muzzled and an air tube inserted down it's trachea to make sure it neither bit anyone else, nor suffocated.   
  
          "Any idea when we can expect this person to arrive?  I tried talking with the subject earlier, and he wasn't forthcoming on much.  The sooner we have someone who can get his behavior down without his verbal help, the better."   
  
          Moreland only nodded.  
  
          After a moment, Beeding sighed, and left, not noticing the cold, empty way his employer's eyes followed him as he walked out the door.  
  
  


	3. Part 3

Wherever the Road Takes You

By Toby Kincaid

Disclaimer:  I don't own anything connected to the Harry Potter series.  The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishers, Scholastic Publishing and Warner Brothers, Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  _The Stand belongs to Stephen King.  _

Authors Notes:  This story is set immediately after the 3rd Harry Potter book, The Prisoner of Azkaban.  While there's not much Snape at the moment, actually, no Snape at the moment, Severus will be playing an important role in the story.  

Whoa, I actually got a part done before another month had elapsed.  

Thanks to Avalon, Spacemonke_amn, and Tarawen.  Thank you for your reviews, and Tarawen, you're right.  Poor, poor, Remus does sum things up nicely.

Part 3

Remus pushed the tepid steak around the plate in front of him slowly, his mind trying to focus on something other than the situation he was trapped in.  Nothing he did, neither physical force nor magic, had enabled him to get free.  He hadn't given up trying to escape, but absolutely nothing had worked so far.

          He'd been with the muggles for two weeks already, and was finding it harder and harder to keep himself from going mad.  It hadn't taken him long after awakening from his transformation, to realize that he was unable to do magic.  Well, that wasn't exactly true; he could do some magic, but none that could get him out of this place.  He'd been able to do _Alohomora on the door, and vaguely remembered it opening before he passed out, only to find himself still locked inside his room when he came to.  It seemed any spell required ten times more power than it normally did, and the end result was him passed out on the floor and no farther to getting out than he was before.  The fact that the muggles had discovered some way of keeping a wizard from doing magic absolutely terrified him.  However, from just his dealings with them, he got the feeling that the muggles didn't even know he was a wizard.   _

          Sighing as he shifted the still bleeding meat higher on the plate, Remus noticed movement out of the corner of his.  He didn't immediately turn his head to check, since he figured it was just another muggle in the room above coming to stare at him.  It hadn't been comforting when he first realized he had no privacy with these people, even when it came to relieving himself.  The toilet was stuck in a corner near the door, far away from the bed, in direct view of the windows.  There were no sheets or blankets on the bed, so he had nothing to obscure the loo with.  

          He hated these bloody muggles.  They still poked him on a regular basis, coming every morning to take blood, vicious little vampires, the lot of them.  The toilet itself wasn't a regular one, there was no water, the only thing keeping him from moving it around, not that he even wanted to, was a locking mechanism they had in the floor that it was connected to.  They even came and took the bloody thing as soon as he used it, which disgusted him to no end.  He was revolted by their treatment, and tried to shut out the burning shame and humiliation smoldering in his chest.  He considered himself lucky that they'd at least given him clothes to cover himself with.    

          The only thing he was able to do so far to mess up their experiment was not talk to them.  Various muggles had tried talking to him in the beginning, asking questions about his habits, eating, bathing, even mating for Merlin's sake, like he was some kind of animal, all in order to get more out him for their bloody little experiment.  He'd realized early on that physically fighting them only resulted in bruises on his arms and friction burns on his wrists and ankles, and they still did what they wanted to him.  Since he'd never been overly sadomasochistic, he'd always hated what he did to himself in wolf form when he was younger or without the Wolfsbane Potion, he pretty much let them do what they wanted to his body.  At least they hadn't done anything permanently damaging so far, even if it was degrading and, more often than not, painful.  But knowing that he was fucking up their work and making them angry, especially Beeding, amused him greatly.  

          His refusal to talk, or more specifically answer any questions about his eating habits, was also why they kept trying to feed him nothing but raw, or nearly raw, meat.  Just about every type of meat possible, fish, chicken, pork, beef, even human, he was positive, at one point.  When he didn't eat it raw, they cooked it a little, but still left it bleeding all over the plate.  And it wasn't as if he didn't like a nice steak or some sausage as well as the next person, he just happened to like his meat thoroughly cooked, to the point that there was no pink in it.  As it was, he wasn't exactly a big meat eater, he never really had been.  At the moment, the only thing keeping him from starving was the porridge they fed him in the morning.  Exactly who'd thought about giving it to him in the first place he had no idea, but he was extremely grateful they had.  

          Dropping the fork on the plate, he pushed it away and sat back, finally deigning to let the person watching the chance to see him fully.  He took a deep breath, and looked up into the windows, right into the closed face of a woman with shaggy, blond hair.  For a brief moment, he was reminded of James, at how no matter, what his friend did, his hair continued to have a life of its own.  Taking in her faded blue jeans, wrinkled button down shirt, and scuffed boots, he got the feeling that the woman's idea of dealing with her hair was to tie it back in a ponytail.

          Beeding was standing next to the woman, pointing at things in a folder while talking rapidly, his hands making wild gestures towards him and then at the folder.  The woman would glance at the folder occasionally, but spent most of her time staring at him, no hint of emotion in her cool grey eyes.  

          Remus shook his head, got up from the table he was sitting at, went over, and laid down on his bed, his back to the door. 

          He didn't intend to fall asleep, though he found himself doing that more often than was normal.  With nothing to keep his mind busy, at least nothing externally, he found himself falling into, not exactly depression, but definitely apathy.  Not only that, but with only a bowl of porridge a day to sustain him, he realized his body was conserving what little energy he had.  Though, that really wasn't much of a factor, since he'd spent quite a bit of time going hungry before.  Maybe his body was off after spending a year being able to eat decently.

          Exactly what woke him though, he didn't know.  One moment he was asleep, dreaming of apples and chocolate bars, and the next, he was wide-awake and, he quickly realized, no longer alone in his cell.  Rolling over, Remus was surprised to find, sitting in one of the two chairs in his room, the blond woman from the window.  Her feet were up on other chair while her attention appeared to be focused on some muggle novel in her hands, something called, _The Stand.  He wasn't quite sure what to make of the two small figures on the cover.  _

          Sitting up slowly, Remus silently studied the muggle in front of him.  The first thing he noticed, which was usually the first thing he noticed with everyone, was her scent, and was quite surprised at the faintness of hers.  Whatever her natural scent was, it seemed to have been mostly washed away and was almost hidden beneath soap and a hint of perfume, though he could detect a vague trace of cat.  He found himself frowning.  The woman was obviously into bathing, and although her clothes didn't look new, they were clean, as were her hair and skin.  From where he was sitting, he could see a faint smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, as well as the slight darkening of skin, as though she had spent a great deal of time outdoors.

          Without paying any attention to him, the woman shifted in her seat, bringing her knees up slightly as she continued to read.  

          Well, this is different, he thought as the muggle continued to ignore him.  All the other times the muggles had come to talk with him, they'd badgered him with questions almost the second they walked through the door.  All this woman had done so far was sit there, read her book and pretend he didn't exist.  

          Now there was a dilemma, do I ignore her like I'd done all the other muggles, do I wait for her to say something, or do I say something?  

And what exactly do I say if I talk with her first?  

          As often happens when one's mind is thinking about one thing, and their body is doing another, their body will end up doing what their mind is thinking, and Remus found himself clearing his throat, before he'd even decided whether or not he was going to talk to the muggle.

          Slowly, the woman lowered her book, tilting it down against her knees.  Her face was as expressionless as before, no spark of interest of any kind in her eyes as she stared at him.

          Remus felt unnerved by her look, even Severus wasn't that good at blank stares, and found himself muttered, stupidly, "What are you reading?"

          The muggle's eyes flickered down towards her book and then back to his face.  "_The Stand_." 

          After getting over the astonishment that the woman was an American, the nasally quality of her voice and clipped way of speaking told him that immediately, Remus felt the blood rising in his face.  He honestly didn't know much about muggles.  Even though he was shunned and persecuted in wizarding society, he'd never spent much time among muggles.  His family had been purebloods, not that blood had ever meant much to them, but they had never had much interaction with muggles either.  And it wasn't that he cared if he didn't know something, he didn't particular like feeling stupid.

          Wetting his lips, he asked, "What's it about?"

          Remus was surprised by the muggle's reaction, especially the fact that he'd finally gotten one from her, a slight furrowing of her brow and a minute quirk of her lips.  

          Before he could draw in a breath to say something else, she answered, "It's about the fight between good and evil after a plague has killed off about ninety-nine percent of the world's population."

          Remus couldn't help himself from frowning.  Muggles were such strange creatures, and he wasn't sure if it the fact that she was an American made it any worse.  

          If her first reaction surprised him, the soft laugh and faint grin that graced her lips shocked him.  "You've never heard of it?"

          He shook his head.  

          The muggle glanced at the front of the book again, dropped her feet to the floor and shrugged.  "Well, you learn something new everyday."  And tossed her book onto the table behind her.  

          Holding out her hand, the woman said, "My name is Divia O'Connor."

          Remus wasn't sure what he should do.  Other than Beeding, no one else had told him their name, and no one had offered him their hand.

          "I don't bite," the muggle added, when he hesitated.

          Slowly, he took her hand in his, noting the calluses and subtle strength in her grip and said, "Remus Lupin." 

          The muggle frowned, but didn't say anything.  A second later, she rubbed her hands together and gave him a slight smile.  "Well, is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about?"

          "You mean besides how to get out of here?"

          A strange look rippled over her face, a frown tugging at both ends of her mouth.  But before she had the chance to say anything, a voice echoed through the room.

          "Please come to the observation room, Ms. O'Connor."

          The muggle turned her head and frowned up at the window, before getting out of her seat.  Holding out her hand to him again, she said, "It was nice meeting you, Remus Lupin."

          He shook her hand and watched her; after she grabbed the book off the table, leave the room.  


End file.
